Sometimes you can only delay the inevitable
by Smoaked
Summary: voubledision's tumblr prompt: "5 ways Felicity and Oliver get mistaken for a couple" OR 4 times Felicity and Oliver get mistaken for a couple and 1 time it wasn't a mistake


**Here's another prompt from voubledision. Hope i did it justice!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Arrow or any of its characters.**

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Oliver and Felicity were just chilling out (her words) on the admittedly oversized leather couch (the ones that looked like belonged in those old mafia movies instead of a 21st century modern skyscraper) after a long day of work at QC. There hadn't been any Arrow emergencies in a while (too long, if you asked either of them) so they've all thrown themselves into their work. Their _'secret identity'_ work as CEO and EA to said CEO, not their (real?) work at the foundry. Diggle had been given some time off to take care of things with Lyla (it was a well-deserved break and it wasn't like Oliver needed his 'black driver' to take him everywhere) while Oliver and Felicity found themselves stuck at the billionaire's sky scraper home office.

A week of this had been enough to drain the both of them. Somehow, it was easier saving the city and putting themselves in life-threatening situations than it was suffering through long board meetings and surviving the cutthroat world of business dealings. Not to mention one _particularly malicious_ business partner.

Isabel had been hitting Oliver hard lately with her not-so-subtle digs at his apparently inadequate managerial skills and unprofessional attitude. It did little to sway his determination but it _definitely_ grated his nerves. He couldn't believe he ever _slept _with the woman (Felicity never made him forget that either; she made fun of him for it endlessly every time he had a bad word to say about the wretched woman)!

As the two overworked friends (were they friends? because sometimes they seemed like they were on the verge of something more but neither of them would really admit it) sought an escape from the brutal battlefield that is the corporate world of QC, they made it a nightly routine to pig out on ice cream (chocolate mint for her, vanilla for him – figures; Oliver was a no-frills, straight-shooting guy) in his office. Nobody in QC ever stayed as late as either of them did, so they were in no danger of being discovered. It wouldn't do Oliver's reputation good if anyone caught him with his suit and tie draped across the back of his desk chair, dress shirt unbuttoned and untucked, sprawled out barefoot on the couch with Felicity's feet in his lap. Felicity, for her part, had changed into spare clothes – an old tee shirt (which was actually Oliver's – he gave it to her at QC the day after she said something about her work dress being constricting and uncomfortable; she left it in her desk drawer for occasions such as this) and some ¾ length yoga pants – and stretched herself across the length of the couch on her back, facing him.

They never actually spoke of this arrangement, or planned it for that matter. She just happened to buy both their favourite ice creams one day, brought them to the office and they fell into a pattern shortly afterwards. But this routine they had going was sacred to the both of them. Sometimes they talked and sometimes they didn't. It didn't matter what exactly it was they were doing, because all they needed was each other's company. They could soak in the warmth of their friendship in comfortable silence, eating their separate tubs of ice cream (even though sometimes she stole scoops of his just to toy with him – he would act annoyed when her spoon inevitably mixed chocolate mint into his tub of pure white vanilla but really, he liked that she was so carefree around him) and not feel pressured to say anything, or be anything that they weren't. This was their space – their little bubble where they weren't CEO and EA or Arrow and IT girl. Just Oliver and Felicity.

This time, however, their little safe haven was under threat as an annoyed Isabel marched right into Oliver's office without so much as a knock (he never locked it during his 'Felicity time' because he never thought anyone would be in the office at this hour anyway). He felt the beginnings of irritation rise within him as his body responded in kind, tensing his shoulders (a movement so subtle only Felicity caught on). He hated intrusions on his time spent with Felicity. They were together often enough, but there were few moments in between QC and the foundry where they were actually _alone_. He just wanted these nights to be _theirs_.

"Ms Rochev," he bit out, "what brings you here, barging into my office at this time of night? How did you even know where to find me?"

"Oh please, _Mr Queen_," she replied sarcastically, "I could hardly call this a grave intrusion, seeing as this is far from an important assembly. Your little evening trysts with your partner Ms Smoak here are by no means a company secret. It may as well be break-room gossip!"

"Wh-what?!" Felicity sputtered. "Partner? I'm not his partner! Well, we work together at QC because I'm his EA and its my job and we work together at the Ar-the uh…well, we're partners but we're not_ sexual_ partners. _Not _that we're romantic partners either! We don't hold hands or do anything couple-y like that. I mean, all I'm saying is, Oliver and I are just friends…"

Oliver, who'd been amused by her sidetracked ramble, took a second to recover. "Ms Rochev, what me and Ms Smoak do here in _my_ private office of _my_ family's company in _our_ own time is none of your business. Now, what exactly _is_ your business here?" he retorted smoothly, the faintest trace of a triumphant smirk on his face.

"Well," Isabel started, slightly fazed. "I merely wanted to remind you to turn up for the board meeting tomorrow. The other members were very unpleased with your sudden disappearances over the past month and even though you've been uncharacteristically _present _in the office over the past week, I wasn't sure if you would bail on the biggest shareholders meeting this quarter. Just because you're the CEO doesn't make your time any more valuable than ours, _Oliver_," she pressed, clearly having caught on to Felicity's slip. She never called him 'Oliver' in the office in the presence of co-workers because she thought it was unprofessional and she was everything_ but_ that. _He_ thought it was kind of hot when she called him _'Mr Queen'_.

"Oliver's not like that! You don't know the first thing about him so don't you dare insinuate that he's anything less than professional. He's very capable at his job and he's doing the best he can, juggling family and work after 5 years away. In fact,_ I_ think you might even learn a thing or two from Oliver," Felicity defended, outraged that Isabel could have such a low opinion of Oliver. He was already risking his life saving the city without so much as recognition or gratitude; he didn't need his employees at QC thinking he wasn't dedicated to his position when he was trying his best to save his family's company .

"I suppose that says it all, doesn't it," the witch countered (Felicity always imagined she was like the wicked witch from Oz – Oliver just stared at her funny when she told him, but now he sees the resemblance). "You're not doing a very convincing job if you think that was supposed to refute the office-wide rumours about the CEO and his secretary who doubles as a part-time seductress." With that, she left the office without sparing the duo another look.

As Isabel left, Oliver could feel his tension easing. Noticing Felicity's silence, he turned to face her, only to see her defeated, a hint of anger playing in her eyes. "What's wrong?" he inquired, concerned that Felicity might somehow be affected by the gossip surrounding the two of them. He was even more afraid that she would put a stop to their little arrangement in fear of attracting more negative attention to him. That was Felicity, always putting others - putting _him - _before herself.

"It's nothing," she started, but quickly continued when Oliver raised a brow. "It's just, how can you be_ okay_ with them – _all _of them – sharing such a low opinion of you? How can you just sit there and take it? You're a_ hero_ of this city, not the wanted vigilante they make you out to be. You're a devoted son, a caring brother, trying to pick up the pieces and save the family company, not the reckless playboy billionaire the press and Isabel seem to believe. Why can't they _see _that? Why do you_ let_ them misunderstand you? I mean, I get that it's part of your cover and all, but how are you so _calm_ about all of this?!" she sighed dramatically, exasperated and enraged at once.

Surprised because it was _completely the opposite of what he was expecting_ and yet somehow still so very _Felicity_, he let out a disbelieving laugh. Of course the woman would be concerned about that! She really never fails to amaze him.

"How is any of this _funny_?!" she asked, disturbed that he would be so unconcerned and annoyed that he didn't seem to be taking her seriously _at all _(but then again, she couldn't find it in herself to blame him if he _did_ have a few nuts loose up there).

"Felicity," he said slowly, as if he were explaining some complex physics theory to an 8 year-old, "I'm calm because I could care less what other people think of me. I don't care, because it only matters what the people I _love_ think of me. My family_ trusts_ me, Diggle _supports_ me and _you believe in me_. As long as you do, I'm okay. I only care what _you _think of me."

Startled by his heartfelt confession (because come on, how often does the guy _actually_ say what he feels?), her eyes snapped up to meet his gaze. They met piercing blue eyes (she knew that was cliché but really, it was as if they were staring into her, reaching into all the little nooks and crannies inside her mind), so sincere and full of warmth that she couldn't look away. It was then that she truly realized the depth of his trust in her. He _depended_ on her, not just on their missions, but for emotional support. He drew from her strength, her encouragement, her _loyalty_.

Felicity couldn't help it if a grin spread (like sunshine, he thought) across her face.

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**I know you were probably hoping for a cute piece, not this, whatever it is. And I tried, I did, I wanted to make it cute but I just couldn't quite get there with Isabel in the picture. The woman just irks me and the story just developed this way. The next chapter will definitely (hopefully) be cuter though; don't worry.**

**Please review/fav/follow!**

**Next: Detective Lance (Police Station)**


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